The Black Priest of Roanapur
by Colin E. Chambers
Summary: A man has come to Roanapur, wreaking righteous justice on the murderers and cutthroats of the sinful city. What could this mean for Rock and the rest of the Lagoon Company? And what about Hotel Moscow and the Triads? After all, they are less than honest. Takes place after the Brunhilde, Neo Nazis ark. Good Hansel and Gretel. OC/? This is a Massive Crossover.
1. God Has Come to Roanapur

A/N: YAYO! Sup, people. Here with a new fic, even though I have quite a few unfinished. Sorry! I've been watching Black Lagoon lately, so this idea woke up a slightly... religious, yet homicidal part of my psyche. I have named him Vicente Cecilio, Vice for short. I hope you like this.

...

Chapter One: "God Has Come to Roanapur."

_"Behold, the Lord came with many thousands of His holy ones, to execute judgment upon all, and to convict all the ungodly of all their ungodly deeds which they have done in an ungodly way, and of all the harsh things which ungodly sinners have spoken against Him." -_Jude 1:14-15

The streets of Roanapur were bright, even against the dark of midnight. But, even the brightest of light could not dispel the three black shadows that glided down the bright streets. The tallest figure, whose face was cast into darkness, was at least six foot in height, dwarfing the two figures on either side of him. He was obviously a male, carrying a metal cross on his back, which was four feet tall, about a half a foot wide, and two and a half feet from arm to arm, with a strange hole in the middle with what appeared to be a handle and two triggers inside of it. In his left hand he carried the Holy Bible, with multiple pieces of colored paper sticking out of it, marking certain pages. He was dressed in the basic uniform of a Christian priest, straight down to the white collar, the steel cross that hung from his neck, and black gloves that covered his hands. His short blond hair hung down to cover his unseen eyes, while the light of the city barely shined on the blond patch of hair on his chin.

The two shorter figures on either side of him stood at an equal height of less than four feet. They were obviously twins, though of opposite genders. The boy had short, silver hair, and appeared to be carrying nothing but a metal suit case in his right hand. He was dressed the same as the taller man, though with the addition of a long black coat over his small priests attire. The girl had long silver hair, and was dressed as a Christian nun without the hood. She carried a long, blanket wrapped object with a small doll hanging from the end in her right hand, whilst she held a metal suitcase identical to the boys in her left..

The three stopped at a large building and walked up to the door. The tall man, shifting the weight of the large cross to his other shoulder, knocked politely. A hatch on the door slid open to reveal brown, bloodshot eyes of Hispanic descent.

"Yeah? What do you want?" Asked the man on the other side of the steel door.

"Good evening, sir." Replied the priest, in a powerful, polite voice. "Can you spare a moment to hear the word of God?"

"Sorry, padre." Said the Hispanic man. "But our souls are not worth your trouble."

"Nonsense." Said the priest. "No soul is too much trouble." The man gave this some thought before nodding.

"Okay, padre, but make this quick. There are plenty of bad elements in Roanapur, and my friends are a few of them." The small metal hatch closed, and a multitude of clicks could be heard before the metal door slid open, revealing the Hispanic man to be in his mid twenties, with curly black hair and multiple scars on his somewhat handsome face.

"Gracias, mi amigo. Tienen una agradable velada.(Spanish: Thank you, my friend. Have a pleasant evening.)" Said the priest in perfect Spanish.

"Y a usted, también, padre.(Spanish: And to you, as well, father.)" Replied the man, smiling at the priest. The priest smiled back, then turned to the two children at his sides.

"Come, Hansel, Gretel. We have business to conduct." He said calmly, walking towards another door in the back of the room.

"Be careful, padre." Said the Hispanic man. "El Lunático(Spanish: The Lunatic) does not take kindly to those whom waste his time."

"Fear not, my friend." Said the priest, lifting his head to show his blue eyed, spectacled face. "I do not waste time. What is your name?"

"The call me Chico Tipo(Nice Guy), but my friends call me Chico." Answered the Hispanic man. "And what, pray tell, padre, is your name?"

"Ah, a good choice of words, my dear friend." Said the priest. "My name is Father Vicente Cecilio, but you may call me Father Vice, and my two assistents here are Hansel." He motioned to the boy, whom bowed. "And Gretel." He motioned to the girl, whom curtsied.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, mister." Said Hansel politely.

"Yes, quite a pleasure." Replied Gretel. Chico smiled at the two children.

"Well, better not keep Mr. Lunático waiting for us." Sad Father Vice. Chico nodded, sitting back down in his chair and lighting a cigarette. Vice made his way to the door again before stopping.

"What would you do." Vice began without turning around. "If every man in this room here were to be slaughtered tonight." Chico took another puff from his cigarette.

"I would pray for their souls." Said Chico. "But I know that none of them would be pardoned for their sins and that they deserve fire and brimstone, and I'm no different."

"That is an acceptable answer." Said Vice, before entering the back room with Hansel and Gretel, the door slowly creaking shut behind them. The back room was large and bare, save for a lamp in each corner, three couches, and a card table in the middle. At least three men sat on each couch, and six others were standing.

'Fifteen men.' Thought Father Vice as his eyes scanned the room. 'Minimal protection, plenty of room for movement. Preferred course of action: Brutal.'

Father Vice pulled his large metal cross from his back, before slamming it on the ground. The occupants of the room were suddenly alert, all of them reaching for their guns.

"¿Quién diablos es usted?(Spanish: Who the fuck are you!?)" Shouted a heavily scarred man Vice knew as El Lunático.

"I know that most of you can not understand me, so I shall tell you in your birth language." Said Vice, still keeping his calm, happy smile. "Todos ustedes van a morir esta noche.(Spanish: You are all going to die tonight.)" The group of men began laughing. Vice sighed, placing his bible in one of his pockets, before turning to his young friends. "Hansel, Gretel, if you could give them an example." The twins smiled happily, nodding enthusiastically to their mentor. They both turned to the other men, their creepy smiles growing. Hansel reached into his coat as Gretel kissed the doll at the end of the strange blanketed thing she held. Then, quicker than thought possible from two children, Gretel whipped the blanket away to reveal an M1918 Browning Automatic rifle, which was taller than she was, and easily picked off three of the men quickly. Hansel pulled out a large axe, which he used to race into the men, hacking at them, wounding and killing without any hesitation. The children were easily plowing through the men, but they were outnumbered, and could get hurt if they didn't have help soon. This became evident when one of the gunmen snuck up behind Gretel and prepared to take her as a hostage. When the man reached for her, his hand exploded into blood and splinters of bone. He screamed in pain, and looked to see Vice, holding his cross like a rifle, the "head" of the cross pressed against his right shoulder, and his right hand holding the handle in the center with his finger on the top trigger, the bottom of the cross having two barrels for firing from, the top barrel noticeably larger then the bottom. The man went to shoot at Vice, but a hole was blown straight through his chest, instantly killing him. He called this part of the cross Fuego Santo(Spanish: Holy Fire). Vice switched to the lower trigger, but didn't pull quite yet.

"Hansel! Gretel! Dă-te jos acum!(Romanian: Get down now!) Lluvia Muerte! (Spanish:Death rain!)" The twins instantly dropped to the ground, psychotic grins on their faces. Vice immediately pulled the second trigger, releasing a massive barrage of bullets from a second barrel at the bottom of his "cross." Those who did not drop to the ground were either dead or dying from his Lluvia Muerte, and he made his way around, finishing off the rest of the thugs. He stopped at the last living man, El Lunático. Vice roughly pulled him up and forced the evil man to his knees, then pressed his cross, Madre de la Misericordia(Spanish: Mother of Mercy) to the back of the monsters head.

"El Lunático, real name: Chaves Vega. You are being called back to hell for the sins of murder, rape, theft, kidnaping, and arson." Vice paused to glare at the man. "I want you to pray for forgiveness." El Lunático scowled before spitting on the ground.

"Su madre era una puta.(Spanish: Your mother was a whore.)" Vice frowned at him.

"I hope you've made piece with yourself. God may show mercy for your soul, but I will not." Vice then set Madre de la Misericordia down, and pulled out his bible. El Lunático still dared not move, due to Hansel and Gretel still watching him, grinning from ear to ear with their respective weapons in their hands. Vice skimmed through his bible, looking for a certain verse, before stopping.

_"Behold, the Lord came with many thousands of His holy ones, to execute judgment upon all, and to convict all the ungodly of all their ungodly deeds which they have done in an ungodly way, and of all the harsh things which ungodly sinners have spoken against Him. -_Jude 1:14-15." Read the priest, before snapping the bible shut. He placed his bible back in his pocket and picked up his cross, placing it to the back of the criminals head.

"Nos vemos en el infierno, hijo de puta. (Spanish: See you in hell, motherfucker.)" Said Vice, before pulling the trigger of Fuego Santo, completely blowing the mans head off, letting the decapitated body slumped to the ground. All three of the still living bowed their heads, silently praying for the souls of the men they had just killed. They soon left the bloodied, bullet riddled room, Hansel and Gretel quickly picking up the suitcases and taking pictures of the bodies, to find Chico, still sitting in his same spot, smoking a brand new cigarette.

"How was the meeting, padre?" Asked Chico.

"Very rewarding, my dear Chico." Answered Father Vice. "Many souls have been saved on this night, and many nights from now."

"You have done something good, padre." Said Chico. "I wish I could say the same for my self." Vice smiled kindly, fixing his glasses.

"We are not all cut out for this form of the Lords work." Said the priest. He quickly pulled out a card with a cross and a phone number on it. "However, if you believe you are one of the few whom can handle it, please call this number." Vice turned to Gretel. "My dear, please leave the suitcase for our dear friend, and possible ally, Chico, here. And, remember Chico, do not open the case unless you are certain of the path you wish to take. Good night." And with that, the three left the building, leaving Chico to ponder his choices. Making up his mind, Chico opened the case Vice had left for him, and found himself staring at his future. Inside the case was a priests uniform, exactly like Father Vices, a Holy Bible, and twin cross shaped Mark XIX Desert Eagles. Chico... No.

Padre Santiago Cortez dressed himself in his new uniform, and holstered his weapons. He walked out the door and stared at the moon, his bible clutch tightly in his left hand.

"Dios ha venido a Roanapur." He muttered.

"God has come to Roanapur."

...

A/N: And that's that. Hope you guys like it. Don't forget to R&R.

Oh, and if any of you have an idea for an OC you want to become a Priest, then just tell their name, background, what they look like, etcetera. Just send this stuff to me in a PM or mention it in a review, and I'll see about putting him/her into it.


	2. Nicholas D Wolfwood

A/N: Yoyo. 'Nother chapter here, ahead of schedule. Want to know why? Becausenot too long ago, I was looking through my stories, and saw that my Black Lagoon story had one more review than I remembered. So, being the curious young man that I am, I decided to take a look. I just want you to know, Mr./Mrs. JulCan1987, that you are the reason I am updating so early. Because your review made me smile, and I sadly have not been doing enough of that lately. Thank you.

Another reviewer made a very good point. That point being one of the single most bad ass Priests in anime; Mr. Nicholas D. Wolfwood. Read, and be entertained.

Don't forget, I am accepting OC's to become Priests. I just need what they look like, their background information, and their personalities. If you don't feel comfortable leaving it in a review, then PM me about it. Also, if you don't want me saying who sent in the OC, let me know. I like to share credit.

Oh, and before I forget, the Priests meet Revy in this chapter. It's right after she and Rock made up after the Brunhilde incident, so prepare for violence. Or booze. Whichever I decide to have them fight with.

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Chapter Two: Nicholas D. Wolfwood

_"But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." _-Isaiah 40:31

"What's this about a massacre?" Asked Dutch, boss of the Black Lagoon Company.

"It's like I said, Dutch." Answered Balalaika, leader of the Russian Mafia stationed in Roanapur, known as Hotel Moscow. "El Lunático and his men were completely destroyed. Nothing but blood and the distinct smell of cocaine."

"Yeah, but what do you want us to do about it?" Asked the large man, leaning against his wall while he listens to the most dangerous woman in Roanapur.

"Well, look into it." Answered the Russian. "If whomever is responsible is capable of killing fifteen men the way this person did... Dutch, we could have a real problem here."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Said Dutch. "But how do you know it wasn't the Colombians? El Lunático has been trying to muscle in on them for a while, now.

"Unfortunately it's not that simple." Replied the woman. "The Colombians were no where near the Mexicans when this happened."

"And how do you know that?"

"I have my people keep tabs on growing powers, in case they need to be squashed."

"Does that count for us?" Asked Dutch.

"Oh, my dear Dutch." Balalaika laughed on the other end of the phone. "Your company is not a power. It's a tool. A useful tool, at that. Without you, we'd have nails, but no hammer to drive them in." Dutch gave a chuckle at that.

"A hammer. That seems like a pretty good description, if you ask me." Said Dutch. "Alright. We'll look into it."

"Thank you, Dutch. I knew I could count on you."

"Yeah, yeah." Dutch listened as he heard the line click, before hanging his up himself.

"A guy roaming around Roanapur, who can kill fifteen men in one nigh." Dutch wiped his face with the palm of his hand. "Revy's gonna fucking love this."

"Them pictures you sent were fantastic, Father." Said the man on the other end. "The death by exploding head was quite the touch. We would not have been able to identify him if there hadn't been a vial of his blood sent in with the photos."

"Thank you for your compliment, High Priest D'artagnan." Said Father Vice, a tic mark growing on his forehead. "But couldn't you have waited for me to finish my shower? I swear, poor Gretel nearly feinted when she brought the phone in to me." Indeed, when the young girl just waltzed in on him, he was caught off guard, and immediately pulled the shower curtain away to see who had interrupted his shower. Gretel blushed a bright red, and fell back with steam coming out of her ears. And, oddly enough, there was a bit of blood dripping from her nose. Vice had managed to quickly slide on a pair of pants from his priests uniform, but that was all he wore.

"Yes, well I do apologize for the sudden call." Said the High Priest. "I merely wished to let you know that I am sending you backup."

"Backup? But I still have Hansel and Gretel." Said Vice. "They're more than enough."

"Yes, they may be skilled, Father, but they are not yet full members of our order." Said the man. "They do not bear their own crosses yet, so I am sending someone that does."

"Who, might I ask, High Priest D'artagnan, would you be sending?" Vice could literally feel the High Priests smirk.

"Oh, believe me, it's someone you have met." Answered the High Priest.

"You don't mean..." Vice's mind flashed back to a small town, overrun with murderers, and a Priest, baring a huge cross... Father Vice grinned. "I can't wait to see my dear friend again."

"Well, Father. Welcome to Roanapur." Said the driver of the boat. Standing on the deck was a tall man, with black hair, sunglasses, and a modified version of the usual Priests uniform. Being hel behind him was a massive cross, nearly matching his own height, wrapped in cloth, and secured with black cords.

"Thank you for the ride, my friend." Said the Priest, before he smiled slyly. Moving quickly, he suddenly slammed a box in the shape of a church over the mans head.

"HEY!" Yelled the man. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!?"

"It's a confessional!" Said the Priest. "Remember those private little boxes at home where you could chat away your sins with the neighborhood priest? Well, this ones portable!" He suddenly flicked the top of the "confessional." "Just put a coin in here." The shipman stood up, handing the confessional back to the Priest.

"No thanks." He said before going below decks. The Priest sighed dejectedly, when he heard clapping.

"Still up to your dirty tricks, Father Nicholas?" Asked Vice, standing on the dock.

"I don't know, Father Vicente." Replied the Priest known as Nicholas. "Still got a soft spot for blonds?" The two walked towards each other, almost threateningly. When they reached each other, they had a short stare down, before laughing.

"Ah, man Wolfwood!" Said Father Vice. "It sure is good to see you again."

"Yeah, you two, Vice." Said Wolfwood, smiling. "Say, how are them kids doing?"

"Hansel and Gretel?" Asked Vice. "They're better, but they are still waking up with nightmares."

"That's understandable." Said Wolfwood. "After what they've been through, we're lucky that they're still coherent."

"Yeah." Replied Father Vice. He then smiled. "Come one, let's go get a drink. Hansel and Gretel are at the hotel watching TV, and I know of a somewhat honest bar here that everyone calls 'The Yellow Flag.'"

"Lead the way."

"Revy, I don't want to have another drinking contest with you." Said Rock.

"Oh, don't be such a whiney bitch!" Yelled the young mercenary woman. "You've drank with me before."

"Well, yeah, but-" Rock was suddenly cut of by an unfamiliar, lightly accented voice.

"I'll take you up on that challenge." Said Father Vice, Wolfwood standing behind him. The two Priests made their way to the bar, sitting down on the left of Revy.

"Sorry to tell you, Mr. Church man." Said Revy arrogantly. "But we ain't drinking beer-"

"Well, I'd hope not!" Exclaimed Wolfwood.

"Yes, beer's for pussies." Agreed Father Vice, without breaking his calm exterior. "Where's the fucking rum?" Revy grinned.

"Oh, I know we're going to get along." She said.

AN HOUR OF DRINKING LATER

"Why ain ya drank yet?" Asked Revy, swaying in her seat, her face red.

"Isaiah 40:31- _"But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." _Quoted the Priest, tipping his rum back after finishing. "Know what it means?" He asked. Revy shook her head. "It means that as long as I give my heart and soul to God, no obstacle can stand in my way." Mumbled something after that.

"Wha wuz zat?" Asked Revy, leaning in to hear him.

"Well, you see, another reason may be due to the fact that my mother was only half Spanish." Answered Vice.

"Sssso?" Slurred Revy.

"So, my dear Revy, my mother was half Irish, and due to her being born in Spain, I inherited her accent." Continued the Priest. "Now, normally this would mean nothing, however, this is where my father fits into it."

"How so?" Asked Rock, generally interested. Father Vice grinned evilly, before answering in a perfect Irish accent.

"Me pa was full blooded Irish, 'e was." Answered the Priest. Revy boiled at the stereotype.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!"

...

A/N: Okay, so another chapter laid to rest. Awesome. R&R, and don't forget to send in OCs.


	3. Deacon Joey, The Tormentor

A/N: Hey. Thanks to TYZO300 and JulCan1987 for the awesome OCs. Remember people. Unless I can't think of a way to add them, OCs are free game. I'll accept just about anything.

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Chapter Three: Deacon Joey, The Tormentor

_""And the smoke of their torment goes up forever and ever; they have no rest day and night, those who worship the beast and his image, and whoever receives the mark of his name.""_

-Revelation 14:11

"W-WHERE AM I!?" Screamed the man strapped to the metal table. He was scared, terrified, even. He had vague memories of the night before, and a splitting headache that screamed in his brain. The room he was in could only be described with two words: Sterile, and clean. It was pure white, with a few chains hanging from the ceiling, each one of the chains having a sharp hook at the end. The man's head was also strapped down, and he could not look any farther than in front of him. He heard a door open and close, and footsteps. The man would say that these steps were the most terrifying sounds he had ever heard. The source of the steps stopped right in front of him. It was a young man, maybe a bit older than a teenager, with short, grey hair, and blue, emotionless eyes. He was definitely from Mexico, this much was clear. He was dressed in clothing that made him appear as if he worked in a church. The man strapped to the table had never seen the inside of a church before, but those of you who have seen the people dressed in white gowns with the diagonal sash that starts from the right hip and travels over the left shoulder know what I mean, though this mans gown was black, and his sash was crimson.

"W-who are you?" Asked the man, shaking in his leather bindings. The silver haired man just stared at him.

"My name is Joseph Garcia, Mr. Noya Ying, but you are welcome to call me Joey." Said the now named Joey, with a Hispanic accent. Joey gave a slight thinking pose. "Well, until you bleed out or I become bored of you, that is."

"You're going to kill me?" Asked the man, unshed tears in his eyes.

"Kill you? God, no." Exclaimed Joey. The man sighed in relief. Until he heard Joey say: "I'm going to cut you. A lot. If you can't handle it, that's your fault." This time, tears did streak down his face. He was suddenly slapped, hard.

"What the fuck!?" He yelled, the stinging sensation in his cheek burning him.

"You do not have the right to cry." Said Joey, still emotionless. "Did you cry as you murdered for money? Did you cry when you kidnaped children from their homes while they slept to sell them as sex slaves? Did you cry when you raped said children to 'break them in?'"

"Oh, God!" Screamed the man. "You... You're..."

"I am your demise, Mr. Ying." Began Joey. "I am the embodiment of your sins. I am the people you have either raped, killed, or both. I am here to prepare you for the eternal pain of hell._""And the smoke of their torment goes up forever and ever; they have no rest day and night, those who worship the beast and his image, and whoever receives the mark of his name.""_

-Revelation 14:11" And with that, Joey began cutting into Mr. Ying, severing tendons, muscles, cutting veins. No anesthesia, no painkillers. Mr. Ying felt every cut. Every slice. Until the light faded from his eyes an hour later.

"Just an hour?" Joey asked himself. "Well, I suppose it will do." Joey grabbed a recorder that was set up to capture every moment of the torture. He looked into the camera, his face glistening with blood and sweat. "Now, I expect you to fulfill your end of the bargain, High Prist D'artagnan." Said Joey, before turning the camera off.

"Ohhhhh." Grumbled Vice, sitting up in his bed and rubbing his aching head. "What happened?"

"Well, you got challenged to a drinking competition." Said Wolfwood, whom was sitting in a chair at the other of the room, his large cross posted up next to him. "I think you got drunk after the hundredth glass of rum? Yeah, the hundredth."

"What all happened?" Asked Vice, whom suddenly noticed that both Hansel and Grtel were curled up on either side of him, still clothed. (YA PERVERTS!) This is new, because the twins had never crawled in bed with him before.

"Well, that Revy girl was all over Mr. Rock." Said Wolfwood. "'Rocy baby, let's get a hotel' or 'Rocko, we don't need protection.' It was pretty damn funny." Wolfwood laughed.

"Really?" "Vice also laughed, then winced due to his hangover. "I wouldn't have expected that, due to the way she was treating him when we first walked in. Alcohol, it seems, makes us much more honest then we'd like."

"Yeah, that reminds me." Wolfwood looked looked down. "When was the last time you actually got shitfaced like that?"

"Maybe six years ago." Answered Vice. "Why?

"Did anything traumatic or bad happen in those six years?" Asked Wolfwood, completely serious.

"I don't understand what-" Wolfwood cut him off.

"The moment I left, you grabbed one of Hansels little pistols and stuck it in your mouth." Said the taller Priest. "If the Hansel hadn't come and grabbed me while Gretel distracted you, you might have painted the walls a new color."

"Oh." Vice looked away, knowing exactly what made him do that.

"'Oh?'" Wolfwood looked shocked. "What happened to make you want to kill yourself?"

"I'm not ready to talk to you about it." Said the Priest. "Maybe I'll tell you, but not yet." Wolfwood sighed at his friends stubbornness.

"Well, as a precaution, the Black Church has asked me to move in with you to keep you from pulling this stunt again and, God forbid, succeeding next time." Replied Wolfwood. "Now, get dressed. The High Priest gave us a target."

"Oh, yeah? Who?" Asked Vice.

"Dunno, all I have is an address." Wolfwood stopped for a moment. "Oh, and he also said he was sending a Deacon for you."

"But I have Hansel and Gretel as Deacons." Said Vice.

"They're not actually a part of the order yet." Replied Wolfwood. "They're not of age. I trained my Deacon when he was eighteen. I was eighteen when I was trained as a Deacon."

"I was sixteen." Replied Vice.

"Either way, Hansel and Gretel are not old enough. So they're sending someone who is." Wolfwood wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Come on, we need to go get your Deacon."

Joey looked around the pier for a bit. He was dressed in his black Deacons suit, red sash and everything. He was lost, never having been to Roanapur before. He tried asking the captain where to go, but the man just ignored him. How rude! Joey sighed. Maybe he should just check out the city. Yeah, why not?

'It's beginning to get late.' Joey thought to himself. 'I wonder where Vice and the twins are.' Suddenly, Joey heard the sounds of a chainsaw. The young Hispanic man followed the sound. He could hear the distinct sounds of tearing flesh, the unique way the meat strips from the bone. Coming around the corner, the somewhat tall Deacon stopped at the horrendously beautiful sight. There was a person wearing a pure white, blood stained doctors outfit, complete with goggles, face mask, and hair protector. The person dressed as a surgeon was sawing at a body with a large chainsaw, while there were three other dead bodies, neatly sawed and placed in bins. Joey watched the surgeon, as they wielded the large tool with grace, as if it were one of Joey's own surgical knives. Joey was so transfixed on the sight before him that he barely registered it when he stepped on a piece of glass. The surgeon whirled in his direction, Joey's eyes meeting the surgeons goggles. Joey reached for his pocket, and the surgeon tensed, prepared for an attack. Joey froze, letting the surgeon know he wasn't grabbing a weapon. He pulled out a pair of rubber gloves, snapping them on.

"From one professional to another, I was hoping I could examine your work." Said Joey, holding up his gloved hands. The surgeon looked at him for a moment, before fishing around behind it, and pulling out a strange, cylinder like object. Placing the cylinder on its neck, the surgeon spoke.

"Feel... Free..." It was a robotic voice, with some slightly feminine quality to it. Joey smiled, but just barely. Approaching the dismembered body, Joey bent down and ran his hands over the body, checking the cuts and destroyed bones. He was very impressed that someone using a chainsaw could make such sophisticated slashes.

"Very impressive." Said Joey. "You wouldn't mind if I helped you with the rest, would you?"

"No... I... Could... Use... The... Company..." Answered the unnamed surgeon.

"My name is Joseph Garcia, but my friends call me Joey." Joey held his hand to the surgeon.

"Fredrica... Sawyer... But most... Just call... Me... Sawyer the Cleaner..." Said the Cleaner.

"well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Sawyer, but I'm looking for a friend of mine, but I can't seem to find him, and I don't know where I can go to sleep for the night-" Sawyer cut him off.

"You can... Stay... With... Me... Until you... Find your... Friend." Said Sawyer.

"That's very kind of you, Miss Sawyer. Thank you." Now, even though he didn't try to, Joey always seemed to have a certain charm when he spoke, emotionless as he seemed. "But, could you let me see your face?" Sawyer nodded, removing her mask, goggles and hair cap, to reveal her black curly hair, and Gothically pretty face. Joey was slightly(pleasantly) surprised by this.

"Please... Stop... Staring..." Said Sawyer, blushing slightly.

"I'm sorry, Miss Sawyer." Said Joey. "I just wasn't expecting you to be so pretty." Sawyer diverted her eyes. Sure, people have called her pretty or cute before, but they usually always wanted something. This man didn't seem to want anything at all.

"Thank... You... Joey..." She said, hiding her blush. "Come... On... Help... Me... Finish..." ...

A/N: Yosh. Nother finished chapter. Thanks for your support, guys, and JulCan1987, I hope I got Joey right. Thanks for the entry.


	4. An Almost Bar Fight

A/N: Hey, guys. Look, sorry to tell ya, but I have no intention of putting lemons in this story. Sure, there's going to be romance, and a few references of sexual actions, but I doubt I'm going to put in an actual sex scene. If I decide to, and that's a big IF, then I'll warn you about it. If you want a sex story written by me, check out Allen in Wonderland. I wrote that a while back. It's only got three chapters, but it's not that bad.

This is going to be a new Ark that somebody gave me the characters for. Not sure how long this Ark's gonna be, but I hope it's good. Special thanks to TYZO300 for the characters. They are all based on already existent characters, so don't try to get me for copyright. I own nothing.

Theme Songs: Known OCs:

Vice: Passive: Angel With a Shotgun, the Cab. Aggressive: Lights Go Out, FOZZY.

Padre Santiago Cortez: Passive: Mexican Heaven, SPM. Aggressive: Adrenalina, David Rolas.

Deacon Joey: Passive: Where Butterflies Never Die, Broken Iris. Aggressive: Getting Away With Murder, Papa Roach.

These are my own thoughts, of course. If you guys think the characters need different theme songs, let me know. I'll listen to the songs and if I agree, I'll change it. All OCs are going to get one Passive theme and one Agressive theme, and I'm going to put the themes up in front of every chapter, thank you.

Now, on with the story.

...

Chapter Four: An Almost Bar Fight.

"And if any mischief follow, then thou shalt give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, bruise for bruise."

_-_Exodus 21:23-25

"Where is he?" Vice asked. He and Wolfwood have been trying to find his new Deacon for several days now, but he just wasn't anywhere to be found.

"I don't know, but at this rate, we'll lose our contract." Said Wolfwood.

"Yes, I realize this." Replied Vice. He'd told Hansel and Gretel about the new Deacon he was to train, and they took it less than well.

FLASHBACK

"Look, it's an order from the Church, I can't turn it down." Said Vice.

"But we're your Deacons!" Replied Hansel. "You're supposed to be training us."

"According to the Church, you're not old enough to train as Deacons." Said Vice. "I don't like this any more than you do."

"Then don't do it." Cut in Gretel, whom seemed to be getting ready to cry. Vice sighed.

"Look, when you two get old enough, I promise that I'll be the one to train you." Vice wiped his forehead. "And I'll still be training you at home, but until you're old enough to be Deacons, I can't take you on contracts or Crusades."

"Wait, so we don't have to go back to the Romanian Church?" Asked Hansel, perking up slightly.

"What? Of course I'm not sending you back." Exclaimed Vice. The twins sighed, obviously relieved, but they still seemed upset.

"Okay, but we're not going to be polite to this guy!" Said Gretel. Vice sighed, face palming.

"I'm sure he would be disappointed." Said Vice sarcastically.

FLASHBACK END

"Why are children so difficult?" Vice asked nobody in particular.

"Because they're more like midget psycho lunatics that you spoil way too much." Answered Wolfwood, without hesitating. Vice was about to say something, but he nodded instead.

"Yeah, you're probably right." Replied Vice.

"Hey, let's go get a drink." Said Wolfwood. "I don't think we're going to find your Deacon tonight. We'll start up again tomorrow."

"Yeah, okay."

The Yellow Flag. A cess pool if there ever was one, but one of the cleanest cess pools in and Wolfwood made their way to the bar, when Vice got a glimpse of five people sitting around a table. It took Vice seconds to realize they were watching Vices new friend, Rock, whom was sit at the bar. Using his peripheral vision, Vice analyzed the five people.

The first was a man that must have been half Brazilian and half Japanese, but his genes leaning more to the Brazilian side. He was wearing an all black outfit, with a pure white sleeve on his left arm, covered with a light brown trench cote over it. The black suit was obviously concealing some pretty powerful kevlar improved body armor. He had dark brown hair in a smoothed out path to the back of his neck, a 5'O clock shadow, brown eyes, and the body of an athlete. At his hip was a modified Shinto Samurai sword, and strapped to his back was an M14 W/grenade launcher.

The next was a woman in her late twenties, and was obviously French. She was a very buxom woman, with long magenta colored hair that came down her back in waves, while it came down into her face in bangs, leaving her ears visible. She had green eyes, peach colored skin, and was wearing red lipstick. For clothes, she wore a black and blue, skintight bodysuit, an indigo military coat with paudrons, and bladed heals. She had two Mac 10s on her hips, and a Barett .50 caliber sniper rifle strapped to her back.

Then there was an American man, wearing a cowboy hat, a clean shaven face, and blue eyes. He was wearing a black Russian military uniform, with a white scarf and spurs on his boots. Gold rimmed aviators sat on his face, with a metal case sitting next to him on the ground. On his left hip was a coiled whip, and on his right hip was a heavily modified version of the Smith & Wesson Model 629 Performance Center fitted with a custom muzzle brake, an odd serrated weight under the barrel, which seems to be designed more for looks than any conceivable function, Crimson Trace laser sight grips, an unfluted cylinder and a C-More red dot sight.

The fourth member was a tall woman, reaching about six feet, nine inches tall, weighing about a hundred eighty pounds. She was a very attractive, dark skinned woman, with gray eyes, and long, straight blond hair going down her back with one bang hanging in front of her face. She had curvy eyebrows, a slender yet curvacious figure, broad shoulders, flare hips, a well endowed chest, noticeably muscular body, and light purple lipstick. She was covered in weapons, from tactical weaponry to assault. Mostly heavy weapons. She was wearing a blue thong leotard, a brown trench coat and black combat boots. Sitting on the table in front of her was a romance novel, which caught Vice off guard a bit.

Finally, the man at the head of the table was a man of British decent, with a balanced build, green eyes and pale blond hair that reached to his shoulders. His skin was slightly tanned, and completely free of an blemishes. He was wearing a dark read trench-coat with no shirt exposing his chest, gray slacks, brown military boots, and black leather gloves. He had a stryker semi-automatic shotgun and an M640 heavy machine gun, both strapped to his back like an X. hanging off his hip were two titanium poles. Sitting in front of him was a plate of Mochi ice cream.

'Five, all armed. Dangerous, very dangerous. First; Brazilian-Japanese man, swordsman, skilled. Second; French woman, lithe, powerful, Sniper. Third; American man, gunman, cocky, skilled. Fourth; American woman, possibly Marine, heavy weapons, very dangerous, strong. Fifth; British man, possible tactician, obvious leader, skilled, dangerous. Best course of action: Avoid direct confrontation.' Vices analysis said that if he and Wolfwood were to take on these five themselves, there was a seventy percent chance they would lose. Vice sat down on Rocks right side, with Revy on Rocks left. Wolfwood sat beside Vice, keeping an eye on the five.

"Rock, I don't know if you know this." Whispered Vice under his breath. "But you're being watched."

"I know." Said Rock, also whispering. "They started following me the day after that drinking competition a few days ago. I don't think Revy's noticed them."

"Do you want me to find out why?" Asked Vice.

"Uh, I'm not sure that's such a good idea." Said Rock. "They're not hurting anybody now." Vice stood up. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to go say hi." Said Vice, checking the strap on Madre de la Misericordia. With Wolfwood following behind him, Vice walked over to the table.

"How may we help you, father?" Asked the British man. He spoke with a Received Pronunciation accent.

"You seemed new, so I thought I'd say hello." Said Vice. "My name is Father Vicente Cecilio, and my friend here is Nicholas D. Wolfwood. Pleasure to meet you."

"Ah, a gentleman. A rare sight in this city." said the British man. "My name is Edward Vandervant the third. These are my colleagues Lucas Banderas." The Japanese-Brazilian. "Danielle De La Fontaine." The French woman. "Arthur Rook." The American man. "And Helena Marie Johnson." The dark skinned woman. "Pleasure to meet you, father."

"Oh, no. The pleasure's all mine, Maestro." The table went silent, and Edwards eyebrows slanted. He smiled at Vice, whom met the smile with a smirk.

"Oh, so you know my work?" Asked Edward. "Care for an autograph?"

"Leave my friend alone." Said Vice, losing his smirk.

"Oh, Mr. Rokuro Okajima is a friend of yours?" Asked Edward. "And if I were to refuse?" Vice suddenly pumped his cross like a shotgun and aimed it at Edwards face. Not seconds later, everyone but Edward was brandishing some form of weapon.

"If you don't, I'm going to paint this bar a lovely shade of crimson." Said Vice. "Guess what I'm going to use."

"Except, you're not." Said Edward. "You see, my friend, you seem to think I'm stupid enough to assume you were unarmed. Everyone in this shit hole is armed, save for Mr. Okajima, over there. One move, and you die."

"You seem pretty damn full of yourself." Said Wolfwood.

"No, I just know I'm better than you." Replied Edward.

"And that's why you have a hook against the back of your neck." Said Joey, standing behind Edward. He must have come in when the commotion started and decided to join in. Edwards face was that of unrestrained anger. He'd been beat. He lost this little game, and it was eating at his pride something fierce.

"Just remember, Mister Vandervant, _"And if any mischief follow, then thou shalt give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, bruise for bruise." -_Exodus 21:23-25" Said Vice, putting his cross back on his shoulder. He walked back to the bar with Joey and Wolfwood. "I'm sure we'll meet again."

"Oh, trust me." Said Edward. "We most definitely will. Let's go." The group left the bar after that.

...

A/N: And there's the new chapter. Shout out to TYZO300 for the OCs. Remember, R&R. Next chapter is going to pick up. Oh, and should I star putting Omakes in the end? Thank you!


	5. Lucas Banderas

A/N: Hey, here's a new chapter. This Ark is pretty much going to be introducing each new character, one at a time until it gets to the finale.

Theme Songs: Known OCs:

Vice: Passive: Angel With a Shotgun, the Cab. Aggressive: Lights Go Out, FOZZY.

Padre Santiago Cortez: Passive: Mexican Heaven, SPM. Aggressive: Adrenalina, David Rolas.

Deacon Joey: Passive: Where Butterflies Never Die, Broken Iris. Aggressive: Getting Away With Murder, Papa Roach.

Oh, and just so's you all know, Allen in wonderland is a genderbend story. Male Alice, female everyone else. Just thought you should know.

Also, I forgot to mention: Father Vice has the same ability Sherlock had in his recent movies. If Vice finds someone he hast to fight head on, he'll analyze the situation and come up with the best way to overcome his obstacle.

...

Chapter Five: Lucas Banderas

_"A righteous man falling down before the wicked is as a troubled fountain, and a corrupt spring." -_Proverbs 25:26

Vice was having a relatively good night. Well, yeah, he met that jackass Vandervant, which almost spoiled his mood, but, hey, he finally found his Deacon. And it was someone he was well acquainted with, too, so that's a plus.

"So, Joey." Started Vice, taking his seat at the bar. Rock and Revy must have taken off a bit ago, because they were both missing. "Where've you been hiding, ya little shit?"

"I haven't been hiding anywhere." Said the young Deacon. "I've been staying with Miss Sawyer." Vice looked around, but he didn't see anyone.

"Miss who?" Asked Wolfwood, also not finding her. Joey stepped to the side, revealing a young, Gothic girl, maybe still in her teens or early twenties. There was a long scar going across her neck, as if someone had tried cutting her throat. Vice raised an eyebrow, a sly grin on his face.

"Finally manage to get yourself a girlfriend, huh?" Asked Vice, causing Wolfwood to laugh, Sawyer to blush, and Joey to just... Stand there... No emotion... Just standing.

"No, Father, I assure you. I was merely staying until I managed to find you." Said Joey. Sawyers face fell slightly, which did not go unnoticed by Vice.

"Yeah, well we don't have room in my shitty apartment." Said Vice, scratching the back of his head. "I've only got two rooms, I'm in one, the twins are in the other, and Wolfwood's on the couch." Vice pretended to think for a moment, before snapping his fingers. "Miss Sawyer, you wouldn't mind watching after our stoic friend here a little longer, would you?" Sawyer fished around for her voice box.

"Not... At... All..." She said quickly. Well, as quickly as she could. Vice smacked his hands together.

"Praise be to God." He said. "Problem one, solved." Wolfwood smiled.

"It's already getting late." Said Wolfwood. He held his hand out for Vice to clasp. "To love!" Vice instantly gripped the mans hand.

"To Love and Peace!" Replied Vice. (I just love references.) Wolfwood left the bar right after, and Vice ordered a glass of rum.

"I'm sorry, Father." Said Joey. "But we must be getting back to Sawyers home." Said Joey. "We must tend to the puppies and kitties."

"Puppies and kitties?" Vices eyes widened. "Puppies and kitties? I can imagine you saying a lot of things, Joey, but puppies and kitties are not on that list." Joey shrugged, walking out of the bar with Sawyer close behind. Vice leaned on the bar, looking at his rum. "Puppies and kitties." He mumbled, before taking a long swig.

"Ah, I love the night air~." Sang a slightly tipsy Vice, walking down the dark streets of Roanapur with a bounce in his step. He stopped, hearing the sound of a blade whistling through the wind. He ducked quickly, right before the blade of a red hot katana zoomed right over his head. Vice looked to see that the person who had attacked him was none other than the Brazilian man from the bar, Lucas Banderas.

"Good afternoon, Father." Said Luke, facing the Priest, a steely glint in his eye.

"Ah, Mr. Banderas, or should I say Sideswipe, or do you prefer Muerte?" Asked Vice.

"And you must be Vicente Cecilio, otherwise known as The Black Priest, or The Holy Harbinger of Death. Which do you prefer?" Asked Luke.

"Vice will do just fine." Said the Priest.

"And Luke will do for me." Said the Brazilian-Japanese man. "Are you ready for this?"

"Yeah, I suppose." Said Vice, pulling Madre de la Misericordia around into his arms. "I'd rather not do this while intoxicated, but what the fuck, right?" Vice suddenly shot at Luke using Lluvia Muerte, the machine gun like weapon peppering the street and buildings. Luke jumped behind cover as the bullets sprayed the concrete just inches beside him. He pulled out his M14, and fired using the grenade launcher attachment. Vice was thrown to the left, still holding his cross tightly. Luke flew out from behind cover, moving at nearly super human speeds. All Vice could do was dodge as the super heated blade of the katana came bare inches to his face.

"That's an interesting katana." Said Vice, still dodging the blade. "Who outfitted it for you?"

"A man I did a job for." Answered Luke, still slashing. "He didn't have enough money, but he's an expert with weaponry, and he offered to help me out with this. The blade generates up to six hundred degrees Fahrenheit." Vice grinned.

"That's good to know." This time, instead of dodging the blade, Vice used his cross to block the attack, stunning Luke.

"How?" He asked, keeping his power lock with Vice. The slightly older man grinned.

"Well, it has to do with martensitic and ferritic steels. Most martensitic and ferritic steels have lower resistance to oxidation and hence lower useful operating temperatures." The Priest took a short breath to continue. " An exception to this is the ferritic grade 446 - this has approximately 24% chromium, and can be used to resist scaling at temperatures up to 1100°C, which equals 2012°F." Vice grinned again. "My cross is 24% chromium, and by my estimation, you're down about 1412°." Vice pushed the swordsman back, took aim, and fired using Fuego Santo. Luke barely managed to dodge the high caliber bullet, which tore through the bottom of his trench coat like nothing.

"That's very interesting!" Called Luke from behind cover. "Might I ask who outfitted your weapon?"

"My order makes their own weapons most of the time." Called Vice from his own cover. He held his cross above his head and fired over the broken down wall he was behind. The bullets pierced the wall that Luke was behind. He knew that if he waited long enough, Vice would run out of bullets, and Luke didn't see any way to reload, nor did he see any extra ammunition on the Priest, so after his bullets run dry, his only hope is to engage in a frontal assault. While Luke thought this out, Vice was analyzing the situation.

'One enemy, highly skilled, well trained, prefers close combat, trained in swordsmanship, probably Satsujin-ken.' Vices mind halted.

"The Murdering Blade?" He mumbled to himself. "Fuck." That's about the point where his cross quit shooting, and just started clicking.

"Aha!" Luke jumped out from behind cover and sprinted towards Vice. The two met, with Vice on the defensive.

"Why are you so thrilled to fight?" Asked Vice, blocking what would have been a lethal slash to the throat. "Is there really that big of a bounty on me?"

"There's a bounty on you?" Asked Luke. "I wasn't aware. I just thought that someone of your renown would make for a great fight. They can keep the money." Vice ducked another deadly slash. Suddenly, Vice dropped his cross, grabbing Luke by the wrist and twisting, causing Lukes wrist to snap. Luke dropped his sword, and Vice kicked off to the side before unleashing punches that would have made Mike Tyson jealous. The only problem was, even with a broken wrist, Luke kept up with every punch, blocking using his forearms. Vices mind went on overdrive, as was Lukes. Lukes problem was that Vices movements were to sporadic, like a boxers, but Vices punches were too quick to be boxing, and they were far more trained, like he devealoped his own style based around the bouncing steps. Luke realized that if he didn't end this, then he would be the one on the ground.

'Dodge right jab to face, kidney shot, opponent becomes confused, catch side kick, break knee, opponent becomes desparate, block groin strike, knee to sternum, three jab combo to face, and finish with an over dramatic uppercut, which will likely send him through the air.'

Dodge, kidney, broken knee, block, fucked up sternum, jab, jab, jab, uppercut, dramatic ending to fight.

Luke laid there, somewhat confused. Had I finally been beaten? Who is this guy, really? Suddenly, Vice stood above Luke, holding his hand to him.

"You know, _"A righteous man falling down before the wicked is as a troubled fountain, and a corrupt spring." -_Proverbs 25:26." Quoted Vice. "That was a good fight." Luke took his hand, standing up to meet eye to eye with the tall Priest.

"It was, wasn't it?" He asked. "We should do this again, some time."

"Definitely." Grinned Vice. The two went to grab their weapons.

"You know." Called Luke. "Edwards gonna have the others come after you, too, for the embarrassment you caused him in the bar."

"I guessed as much." Said Vice, he turned to leave, waving behind him. "Take care."

"You too, Father." Said Luke. "I can't wait to see how you do against the others."

...

A/N: Yep. Nother finished chapter. Do you guys realize how much time it took me to find the proper melting point of certain types of metal? I claim none of the information on said metal. I got it off a web site. I ain't that smart. I hope I got Lucas right, TYZO300. And if I didn't, let me know. I'll try to do better in the future.

R&R.


	6. Danielle De La Fontaine

A/N: Hey guys! New chapter. This one was supposed to be updated two days ago, but shit went down, so I got it today. Sorry.

Theme Songs: Known OCs:

Vice: Passive: Angel With a Shotgun, the Cab. Aggressive: Lights Go Out, FOZZY.

Padre Santiago Cortez: Passive: Mexican Heaven, SPM. Aggressive: Adrenalina, David Rolas.

Deacon Joey: Passive: Where Butterflies Never Die, Broken Iris. Aggressive: Getting Away With Murder, Papa Roach.

Lucas Banderas: Passive: Passive: The Humbling River, Puscifer. Aggressive: Los Miserables, punk rock y subversion.

Danielle De La Fontaine: Passive: La seine and I, Vanessa Paradis. Aggressive: Diary of Jane, Breaking Benjamin.

Arthur Rook: Passive: Hole in the earth, Deftones. Aggressive: The Undead West, Wet OST

Helena Marie Johnson: Passive: The sun's gone dim, Johann Johannsson. Aggressive: Hideyoshi theme, Sengoku Basara Ni OST.

Edward Vandervant III: Passive: The Anonymous theme. Aggressive: The game, Disturbed.

...

Chapter Six: Danielle De La Fontaine

"Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect."

-Romans 12:2

"I could really use a vacation." Mumbled Vice, yawning. It was the morning after his face off against Lucas Banderas, and he was exhausted.

"What's the matter, fuzz face?" Asked Wolfwood, lying on the couch like he owned the place. "Got another hangover?"

"No, I do not have a hangover." Mumbled Vice, sitting in the armchair on the other side of the shitty apartment room. "And stop calling me fuzz face, you damn womanizer."

"What's a womanizer?" Asked Gretel, as she and her brother both exited their bedroom, still wearing their sleeping attire. They both yawned in unison. Wolfwood looked at the twins seriously.

"You know, you two are almost too innocently adorable." He said calmly. Vice grinned tiredly.

"You don't know them too well, do you?" Asked Vice, before standing up and grabbing his cross, which was sitting right next to him.

"Where ya headed?" Asked Wolfwood, sitting up.

"I need to go and train Joey. I'll be back." Answered Vice. Wolfwood grabbed his arm, standing up.

"You had an assassination attempt on you. I'm coming too." Said Wolfwood, completely stubborn.

"Yeah! We're coming too!" Said Hansel, stepping forward with conviction. Vice shook his head, a wry smile on his whiskered face.

"No, guys. I can handle myself." Said Vice. "I need you all to stay here and watch the fort."

"But-" Wolfwood was cut off by a glare.

"I said Stay. Here." Vice left the room, the door slamming behind him. Hansel looked up at Wolfwood.

"Pansy ass."

"Jeez, it's like those guys don't have any faith in me." Mumbled Vice, lighting a cigarette walking down the hot streets of sunny Roanapur. His apartment was in the Redlight district of the city, which was really saying something. Sawyer and Joeys place was in the plaza area, on the other side of the city. Finally reaching the meat packing industry that Sawyer uses as a front for her "Operations," Vice pounded on the door. Soon after, there came a chorus of dog barks and meows from inside. Sawyer answered the door moments later, covered in fur.

"Hello... Vice..." She said, using her little voicebox mechanism.

"Good morning, Miss Sawyer." Said Vice. "Is Joey in?" She nodded, backing up into the room. Vice stomped out his cigarette, knowing Joey doesn't like them. Seconds later Joey came to the door, also covered in animal fur.

"Good morning, Father." Said the Deacon.

"Joey, why are you and Sawyer covered in fur?" Asked Vice. Joey shrugged.

"Puppies and kitties." He said evenly. Vice sighed.

"Well, anyway... MOVE!" Vice suddenly tackled Joey back into the room, just as a sniper bullet sped right by them. Vice quickly jumped back to his feet, giving chase to the fleeing sniper with Joey following closely. Sawyer came outside to see what all the racket was, only to be met with an empty street. She shrugged, going back inside to feed the "puppies and kitties," as Joey is so fond of calling them.

Vice and Joey finally caught up with the sniper who'd fired on them. They were in an open street, with quite a few people walking about, including a certain blond Russian, heavily scarred woman and her entourage.

"Alright, Miss. Who are you?" Asked Vice, pointing his cross at the woman. She turned, revealing herself to be the French woman from the Yellow Flag, Danielle De La Fontaine.

"Plaisir(French: Pleasure) to see you again, father." She said in her thick French accent.

" Et pour vous, ainsi, ma chère(French: And to you, as well, my dear)." Said Vice. "Miss Fontaine, better known as Black Pantera." Danielle almost smirked at this comment.

"Yes, you are correct, mon ami." Replied Pantera. "An introduction is not really necessary, monsieur Cecilio. I know of you." Vice grinned viciously.

"Stay back, Joey. Watch and learn." Said Vice. He looked back at Joey, smiling like a lunatic. "I'll be expecting an essay on this fight on Monday." Joey shrugged, moving over to where the other "pedestrians" were.

(Play: Diary of Jane by Breaking Benjamin.)

The Spanish man and the French woman immediately took off, Vice using Lluvia Muerte, and the Pantera using a pair of Mac 10s. Vice slid behind a parked car and Danielle copied his movements by ducking behind a broken down car on the other side of the side street. Vice grinned. Car? Gas? 50 caliber rounds? Vice leaned over, taking aim with his finger on Fuego Santo. He fired quickly before Pantera had a chance to take his head off with her sniper. There was a loud explosion, and Vice thought he'd accidentally killed her. That is, before she flew out of the flames, guns blazing. Vice realized that she an assassin style gunner, so she probably wasn't adept in hand to hand combat. Making a mad dash, Vice dropped his cross, sprinting at the woman, bullets flying around him. He was hit in four different, non-lethal spots, but the adrenaline numbed this. Upon reaching the Pantera, Vice smacked her guns from her hands, and threw a punch at her face. She dodged the punch and wrapped her arms around his wrist. Then, using his weight as leverage, she jumped up, wrapping her legs around his neck and attempting to pull his arm out of its socket in a form of standing arm bar. Vice struggled, using his free arm to try and remove her legs, though, she was much stronger than she looked.

"Bonsoir(French: Goodnight)." Said Danielle calmly. She suddenly pulled him to the ground, Vices head still trapped. Then, again using his weight, she slammed him head first into the ground. He was apparently knocked out, so Danielle rose to her feet to retrieve her Mac 10s. She was mildly surprised when Vice suddenly threw her into a full nelson. Panter jumped up, wrapping her legs around his neck again, and again slamming his head into the ground. The crowd watching all winced, save for Joey and the Russian woman. Now, sure that he was out, Pantera went for her guns again, only for her eys to widen when Vice groaned and climbed back to his feet shakily.

"I'm not finished yet." Said Vice, slurring his words slightly, swaying back and forth, his hands in a weak guard. Getting somewhat annoyed by his persistence, Danielle threw both of her arms out, causing to blades on each wrist to pop out on either side to combine into a single wrist mounted dagger on each hand. She ran at Vice, throwing bladed jabs and slashes at him. Even in the condition, Vice still managed to keep up with her speed, dodging all of her attacks. Then, with an amazing spin kick, she landed Vice on his ass, then kicked him in the face again, knocking him out for the third time, seemingly. Pantera stomped her foot in aggravation when Vice stood back up again.

"WHY!?" She shouted at him. "Why do you keep fighting? What's your purpose?"

(Play: La seine and I by Vanessa Paradis)

"Purpose?" Vice chuckled slightly, swaying again. " Purpose is a funny thing. When we were being trained, the Head Priest nailed many quotes into our heads, but one sticks out the most in this situation. _"Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect." _-Romans 12:2. I suppose in this sense, my purpose is to fix this world. Right the sins of the evil with my own hand of justice."

"Fix the world? Hand of justice?" Pantera almost laughed at him. "There's no way a single man can do this. I doubt that anybody would be capable of doing this, no matter the circumstance.

"Well, you see, that's the kind of attitude that I can't stand." Said Vice, his stance becoming solid. "Anybody can do anything, and if they fail, then at least they tried." Danielle seemed to give this some actual thought, fixing Vice with a questioning stare.

"You know, I'm somewhat jealous of you." She said. "You actually have a purpose. All I have is killing. Kill, kill, kill. That's all I do." She almost seemed sad as she said this.

"How long have you been working with your teammates?" Asked Vice, putting thought into what he was going to say next.

"A while. Why?"

"Well, you care about them, right." Pantera gave a hesitant nod. "There's your purpose. Your friends." Pantera nodded again, knitting her eyebrows together in thought.

"Yes, I can see your logic." She said, smiling so softly you almost couldn't see it, though Vice caught it.

"Well, I'm ready for round two." Said Vice, getting in his fighting stance. Danielle shook her head.

"I no longer have the desire to kill you, fortunately for you, mon ami." Said Pantera. Vice smiled, seeing that he got through to her. He was sure that if he'd kept fighting her, he would have died. It was that point that the police pulled up, sirens blaring.

"Okay, new people. I realize what kind of city this is, and yada yada." Said the police chief. "I honestly don't give a fuck what you two do. You can beat the shit out of each other all you want. Just don't be firing you guns in public. I'll need to take you two in for a while, though I can be swayed to let you go early with a little monetary compensation." The two nodded, getting into the same police car. They all sped off, leaving the pedestrians to file off to whatever they were doing that day. Joey shrugged, before making his way back to Sawyers and his shared home. Soon, everyone was gone, save for the Russian and her entourage.

"Sargent?" She asked a large man with a diagonal scar across his face.

"Yes, Kapitan?" The man asked back.

"Have one of the men pay their bail, and have them watched. Constantly." She said, smiling far too kindly for it not to be sinister.

"Yes, Kapitan. It will be done." Said the large man.

"Thank you, Boris."

...

A/N: Ugh. It's like, past four in the morning while I'm writing this. Got my fifth cup of coffee at my side. I'm tired.

I hope you guys like it, and again, the only character I own is Father Vice. The Kobura squadron belong to TYZO300, Joey belongs to JulCan1987, and pretty much everyone else belongs to the creators of Black Lagoon, whom I am not one of. Thanks for reading.

R&R.


	7. Arthur Rook

A/N: Hi. Okay, so I'm trying to get this chapter done as soon as possible to make up for the late update on the last chapter. Hope ya'll like it. This one's got a western theme to it. Booya.

Theme Songs: Known OCs:

Vice: Passive: Angel With a Shotgun, the Cab. Aggressive: Lights Go Out, FOZZY.

Padre Santiago Cortez: Passive: Mexican Heaven, SPM. Aggressive: Adrenalina, David Rolas.

Deacon Joey: Passive: Where Butterflies Never Die, Broken Iris. Aggressive: Getting Away With Murder, Papa Roach.

Lucas Banderas: Passive: Passive: The Humbling River, Puscifer. Aggressive: Los Miserables, punk rock y subversion.

Danielle De La Fontaine: Passive: La seine and I, Vanessa Paradis. Aggressive: Diary of Jane, Breaking Benjamin.

Arthur Rook: Passive: Hole in the earth, Deftones. Aggressive: The Undead West, Wet OST

Helena Marie Johnson: Passive: The sun's gone dim, Johann Johannsson. Aggressive: Hideyoshi theme, Sengoku Basara Ni OST.

Edward Vandervant III: Passive: The Anonymous theme. Aggressive: The game, Disturbed.

I'd like to apologize for this chapter, I'm not used to doing ones this long.

Also, I would like to apologize for some heavily racial comments made in this chapter. Thank you.

...

Chapter Seven: Arthur Rook

_"Talk no more so exceeding proudly; let not arrogance come out of your mouth: for the Lord is a God of knowledge, and by him actions are weighed."_ -1st Samuel 2:3

"Come on, Joey. We just started!" Said Vice, looking at his downed Deacon. As soon as Vice was released from jail the next day, he immediately bought a large bottle of rum and went back to Sawyer's and Joey's place to train the younger man in his form of hand to hand combat. Screw the minor concussion and bullet wounds the French woman gave him. He had alcohol for that shit. Joey stood again, trying to throw a punch at the Priest. Vice grabbed Joey's wrist and threw him over his shoulder easily.

"Father, you throwing me to the ground is hardly training." Said Joey. Vice laughed loudly, taking a swig from his bottle, a slight alcohol induced blush on his cheeks. Okay, maybe he'd stopped at the Yellow Flag for some early morning drinking. A lot of early morning drinking.

"Look, Jojo. The best way to learn how to fight is in real life situations. Like sex." Vice laughed again. Well, until his rum bottle exploded into a million pieces, causing shards and alcohol to cover the ground. And Vices clothes. Vice didn't even flinch, his expression just became unreadable as he looked over at the shooter.

"Arthur Rook." Vices voice became slightly sadistic. (Think Izaya Orihara from Drrr!.)

"Vicente Cecilio." Replied Rook.

"Demon Eyes."

"Black Priest of Death."

"That was some expensive fucking rum." Said Vice, still using his sadistic voice, a small, evil grin on his face.

"Oh, don't wine about your shit tasting rum." Said the cowboy.

"Father-" Joey was cut off.

"Shit tasting rum!?" Vices face became one of surprise and disbelief.

"Yeah, father. Shit. Tasting. Rum." Rook gave a little chuckle at the end.

"Sir-" And again, Joey was cut off.

"And I suppose you'd know actually good alcohol, eh, junior?" Vice grinned at the look on Rooks face.

"Father, I-" Poor Joey.

"JUNIOR!? I'm twenty-three!" Shouted Rook. This time, Joey just shrugged and went home. Sawyer said she'd give him a present after training today. He was curious as to what it was.

"Huh. Younger than I thought." Vice laughed again, only for a bullet to fly right past his cheek, drawing a bit of blood. All merriment was gone from Vices face, taking a deep, menacing scowl instead.

"Do not patronize me." Said Rook. "I'm the fastest gun in the entire fucking world, old man." Vice watched the young man, trying to find a way to end this without killing the kid. Only problem was... He's American.

"You're right, I shouldn't patronize you." Said Vice, before a small grin appeared again. "At least until you're out of diapers, Junior!"

"YOU OLD BASTARD!" Rook unloaded his gun at Vice, clicking twice. That's right, he'd already fired twice, leaving him only four shots, instead of six. Vice was completely unperturbed by by the shots as he sidestepped each one. It wasn't hard. The kid didn't even try to hide where he was aiming first.

"Little tip, kid? A little less finesse, a little more substance." Said Vice, a bored expression on his face. Rook growled, loading his gun at an impressive speed.

(Play: The Undead West, Wet OST)

"Here's some substance for you!" Rook shot his gun at Vice again, but this time, Vice had to duck out of the way to avoid getting hit. This kid was a lot better than he'd assumed. Vice reached for his cross... Shit, it's on the other side of the road.

"Hey, I'm unarmed!" Shouted Vice from behind a nearly fallen wall. "My cross is over there!"

"Then go grab it!" Shouted Rook.

"But you'll shoot me."

"No I won't!" Promised Rook. Vice peeked around the wall, only to dodge back again as a bullet collided with the wall.

"Fucking Judas!" Shouted Vice. "You lying asshole!"

"I didn't hit you, did I, old man?" Asked Rook, smirking.

"Fuck you, Junior!" Shouted Vice.

"Quit calling me that!" Shouted Rook, shooting at the wall again.

"How the hell am I supposed to fight back!?" Asked Vice.

"You any good with pistols?" Asked Rook.

"I used to be. Never really had much of a use for them though." Vice was caught by surprise when an old school Smith and Wesson revolver, fully loaded.

"There, now we should both only have six shots." Said Rook, spinning his chamber. Vice did the same, prepared for this short shoot out. Crossing himself and saying a short prayer, Vice stood and began firing...

(End Track.)

"Ow, where the fuck am I?" Vice asked nobody in particular.

"Hell if I know." Said Rook, whom was in the same boat as him. The two were in a black room, tied back to back. Rook was missing his cowboy hat, though. And both of them were missing their guns.

"What the fuck happened?" Vice asked. "I was barely buzzed when we fought. I should be able to remember that."

"Maybe, I could spare some light on your situation." Came an unmistakably Mexican voice.

"Rego Vega." Said Vice, without seeing the man, knowing his voice easily. "Brother to the late Chavez Vega. The older brother, if I recall."

"Yes, Senior Cecilio." Said Rego. "Chavez was my poco mierda(Spanish: Little Shit). And you killed him."

"He was a drug smuggler, dealer, murderer, rapist, the list goes on." Said Vice.

"I know." Replied Rego. "I have never been more proud."

"You're a terrible big brother." Said Arthur, whom was suddenly smacked in the head.

"You will keep quiet, puto." Said Rego. Rook said something, but Rego couldn't catch it. "What was that, puto?"

"I said, smack me again and I'm going to rip off your balls and make you eat them. You wet backed, motherfucking, bean eating spic." Said Rook. Vice couldn't help but laugh. Rego fumed, before leaving the room, screaming something about torture and tortillas.

ONE HOUR LATER

"Why do Mexicans have small steering wheels?" Asked Rook.

"Dunno." Replied Vice.

"So they can drive with the handcuffs on." Answered Rook. Vice laughed loudly at that one.

"Okay, this one's my favorite." Said Vice. "What do you call a Mexican baptism?"

"What?" Asked Rook.

"Bean dip." Answered Vice. They both began laughing.

"I hope you two are enjoying yourselves." Said Rego, entering the room with a pissed off expression.

"Oh, hey there, Paco. We were just talking about you." Said Rook, with Vice grinning along. Rego gritted his teeth, but smiled.

"I was going to torture you." Said Rego. "But, in order to free myself from your constant insults, I think I'm just going to burn you." Another man came in and started dousing the two with gasoline. "Have fun, putas." Said Rego, throwing a lit match on the ground and leaving the room.

"Think it's time to go?" Asked Rook.

"Yeah, no doubt." Answered Vice. They both stood up, the ropes falling to the floor, having been cut about the time Rego left the first time.

"We need our guns." Said Rook.

"Yeah, but we can't get our guns without guns." Said Vice.

"There are guards outside." Rook smiled. Vice grinned along with him.

"Let's have some fun." The two of them blasted out of the room, taking out the first two guards easily. They grabbed the guards' shitty handguns and went to town, always hitting a fatal wound. The two gunmen made their way upstairs, killing or maiming anything in their way. Laughing as they did it, too.

LATER

"OH GOD NO!"

"Jeez, Rook." Said Vice, staring at the mangled man in front of him while Rook admired his work.

"What?" Asked the younger man.

"Holy shit, you're worse than Joey!" Shouted the Priest.

"Hey, torture's an art form. An art form which I've perfected." Said the slightly egotistical man. He looked at his latest artwork. "Now, unless you want me to put the finishing stroke on this painting, you'll tell us where our guns are. Now."

"Third door on the right down the hall." Said the mangled man. Rook smiled.

"Thanks." He shot the man in the head with his own gun. The got to the weapon room, but it was filled with more enemies... For about a half a minute before it was just filled with bodies.

"Okay, now that we got our shit, let's kill this fucker." Said Vice.

"Amen to that, father." Agreed Rook.

The room was easy enough to find. It was at the top of the six story building, and surrounded by goons.

"I hope you gentlemen said your prayers." Said Vice. Rook cocked his gun.

"Hey." He winked. "I'll make ya famous." (Referance: Billy the Kid.)

INSIDE REGOS OFFICE

"Yes, I know!" Shouted the Hispanic man. "The fucking gunshots are outside the office. Yes, I know they're dead. FUCK!" Rego slammed the phone down, before noticing that both Vice and Rook were both inside the room.

"See you in hell." Said Vice, pointing his cross at him. Rego nodded.

"My brother and I will save you a place by the fire." Said the man, before a hole was blown through his head. Vice and Rook looked around.

"Now what?" Asked Rook.

"We could go back to killing each other." Offered Vice.

"Naw, that ship has sailed." Said the cowboy. "Besides, you're alright, despite what Vandervant says."

"Thanks." Said Vice.

"No prbl- LOOK OUT!" Rook suddenly pushed Vice out of the way, taking the bullet meant for him. Vice shot the man in the head, blowing it clean off. He looked over at Rook, whom was bleeding from the side, but it was a superficial wound, thankfully.

(Play: Hole in the earth by the Deftones.)

"You gonna be okay?" Asked Vice.

"Yeah. Besides, nobody can kill me." Replied Rook.

"You know; _"Talk no more so exceeding proudly; let not arrogance come out of your mouth: for the Lord is a God of knowledge, and by him actions are weighed."_ -1st Samuel 2:3." Said Vice. "Pride is good and all, but it will get you killed if taken to excess."

"Yeah, you know what else will get me killed?" Asked Rook, wincing. "Bleeding. Get me to a fucking hospital." Vice laughed, putting the younger mans arm over his shoulder and helping him outside. They made it to Sawyers, and Joey answered the door. He had lipstick smears on his cheeks and lips. Vice refused to ask.

"My buddy got shot." Said Vice. Joey raised an eyebrow, but stepped aside.

"Step into my office." Said the emotionless man.

...

A/N: There it is. Hope you guys liked it.


	8. Helena Marie Johnson

A/N: Okay, new chapter. I'm not sure about this one yet, but it's the second to last chapter in this Ark. Hop ya'll like it.

Theme Songs: Known OCs:

Vice: Passive: Angel With a Shotgun, the Cab. Aggressive: Lights Go Out, FOZZY.

Padre Santiago Cortez: Passive: Mexican Heaven, SPM. Aggressive: Adrenalina, David Rolas.

Deacon Joey: Passive: Where Butterflies Never Die, Broken Iris. Aggressive: Paint it Black, Rolling Stones.

Lucas Banderas: Passive: The Humbling River, Puscifer. Aggressive: Los Miserables, punk rock y subversion.

Danielle De La Fontaine: Passive: La seine and I, Vanessa Paradis. Aggressive: Diary of Jane, Breaking Benjamin.

Arthur Rook: Passive: Hole in the earth, Deftones. Aggressive: The Undead West, Wet OST

Helena Marie Johnson: Passive: The sun's gone dim, Johann Johannsson. Aggressive: Hideyoshi theme, Sengoku Basara Ni OST.

Edward Vandervant III: Passive: The Anonymous theme. Aggressive: The game, Disturbed.

...

Chapter Eight: Helena Marie Johnson

_"If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing." _-1st Corinthians13:1-3

"OW! FUCK!" Shouted Arthur Rook, as Deacon Joey pulled the bullet from his side. Sawyer, whom was sitting on the couch holding a little puppy smirked. It was fun to watch Joey work. Whether he was fixing the injuries, or causing them.

"Oh, quit being a bitch." Said Vice, holding a brand new bottle of rum. He made Rook give him the money to buy a new bottle, seeing as the younger man shot his first one.

"Please, stop squirming, mister Rook." Said Joey. When Rook refused to quit, the Deacon slammed the palm of his hand against the wound.

"OW! What the fuck!?" Shouted Rook. Joey lifted one of his favorite scalpels.

"If you do not do as I say, I will plunge this into your wound." Said Joey. "And I will not pull it out." Rook was relatively calm after that. Joey removed the bullet, and easily sewed the hole closed.

"Does it hurt?" Asked Vice.

"No, not really." Replied Rook. Vice just stared at him, before pouring a bit of his rum on the bullet hole.

"How about now?" Laughed the Priest as Rook flipped out.

"You old bastard!" Shouted the young man.

LARGE EXPENSIVE HOTEL

"Where is Arthur?" Asked Edward Vandervant III. "I'd assumed that he'd be back by now, successful in his mission, unlike you two." Edward sent a slight glare at Luke and the Pantera.

"He's stronger than I thought he'd be." Said Luke. He wasn't making an excuse. He was still nursing his reset wrist.

"And what do you say?" Edward turned his eyes on Danielle.

"I could have killed him." She answered. "But I didn't feel like it."

"And why is that?" Asked the Maestro.

"Death wasn't his purpose." She answered.

"His purpose?" Edward started laughing. "You shouldn't be worried about his purpose. You should be worried about yours, which is to do as I say." Danielle's eyes narrowed.

"No, it isn't." She replied. "My purpose id to protect my friends. Vice happens to be one of them now." Edward face palmed.

"What in the hell has that bible thumping degenerate been filling your head with?" Edward sighed, but pulled out his cellular. "Titania? Move in on the target. Assume target is holding Demon Eyes."

OUTSIDE SAWYERS MEAT PACKING INDUSTRY

"Okay, Joey." Said Vice. "Keep Rook in there, at least until his wound heals up, so probably for the next few days. I'll be coming by every day to check on him and train you."

"Yes, father. I'll keep him in the back room." When Joey finished speaking, two small, feminine arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him back inside, the door shutting behind him. Vice shook his head, a small smile on his face.

"Lucky bastard." Vice began walking home, his hands in his pockets, his cross on his back. Suddenly, he heard the sound of something hitting the ground. Looking down, Vices eyes widened when he saw a grenade on the ground. He frowned, staring at the grenade with a deadpan expression.

"God damn it."

BOOM!

"Well, that was much easier than I'd expected." Said Helena Marie Johnson, The Titania. She looked at the downed form of Vice, whom was thrown by the force of the grenade. "I'd at least hoped that he would have put up more of a fight than that. Oh well." She turned around, but froze at the sound of a large gun cocking. She turned back around to face a rather beat up looking Vice. He had blood coming from his forehead and mouth, his uniform was torn and pretty much destroyed, and his eyes were slightly unfocused.

"Something like that wouldn't keep me down." He growled. He stumbles a bit, but manages to stay up.

"There really is more to you than I though." Said Helena. "That's fine. It just means I'll have something to do for a while." Vice ignored her comment, instead putting all concentration into thinking.

'Analyzing situation. Target heavily armed. Heavy ballistics, explosives, incendiary. Best course of action: Avoid direct contact.' Really, brain? That's all you got for me? I'm screwed. The woman stood at an even six foot nine, with a massive, yet still quite feminine frame. Strapped to her back was a very large object, hidden inside of a black bag. On her person were multiple grenades and weapons that could, and would be used to their fullest extent for destruction. Another thing caught Vices attention as well. This woman was damned beautiful. Sure, Vice had seen other beautiful, even went out with a few and was married to one. But this woman was so confident. It looked like she could take on anybody and win, which she probably could. She had enough artillery on her to take on an army.

"Okay, he sent a swordsman, a sniper, a gunman, and now a heavy weapons specialist." Said Vice, standing up straight. "What kind of reach does Vandervant have, anyway? I mean, I heard the guy was smart, and a good fight if I'm not mistaken, but what kind of resources does he really have?"

"Honestly? I don't even know how far his claws really extend." Said the woman. "All I know is that you are a target. Albeit a handsome target, but still a target." Vice sighed.

"I guess we have to fight, right?" He asked.

(Play: Hideyoshi theme, Sengoku Basara Ni OST.)

"Of course." Answered Helena. She suddenly pulled the object from her back, unzipped the pack, and pulled out a massive fire arm. Vices eyes widened when he recognized the weapon. It was a prototype personal railgun.

"Fuck." Vice dove to the side when the massive shell flew by him, taking out the building behind him.

"Come back here!" She shouted, holding the railgun with both hands as she gave chase after Vice.

"Yeah! Okay, just because you asked!" Vice shouted back sarcastically. She threw another grenade ahead of him, and Vice took a sharp turn right. There was an explosion, and Vice was thrown face first into a wall, his cross flying in a different direction. Assuming he was knocked out, Helena approached the downed Priest, holding her railgun over her shoulder. Suddenly, Vice was on his feet with a handgun pressed under Helena's chin. Apparently, he decided after losing his cross against Rook, he'd need to carry a backup. Good thing, too.

"Thought you had me, huh?" He asked. Helena smirked, before jabbing Vice in the gut, but instead of a regular punch, Vice could feel as electricity went through his body, forcing him to his knees.

"No, I do have you." Said Helena, before kicking Vice in the face. She set down her railgun and held up her gloved hands. Vice watched as electricity sparked from them.

"Shit." Mumbled the Priest. He rolled away when Helena went to punch him. Standing up quickly, Vice began dodging the electrically enhanced jabs. If he let any of those punches hit home, he was done for. Helena went to punch him again, but he wrapped an arm around her arm, which did not have the protection of the glove. He quickly did the same with the other arm, trying not to think about the close quarters he was in with the beautiful woman.

"This is a bit... Close, don't you think?" Asked the American woman. Vice was looking anywhere but forward.

"How else did you expect me to stop you?" He asked, grumbling a bit.

"I don't know." She said, smirking at him. "You could have tried asking politely."

"Yeah, Thaaaat would have worked." Vice grumbles again. "Look, why do you even work for that guy?"

"I was looking for work, and He was hiring." She answered.

"That's not all of it." Said Vice, giving her a look that made her look away.

"What, do you want to hear my whole life's story, or something?" She asked sarcastically.

"I wouldn't mind it." Answered Vice. "Maybe somewhere else?"

"Oh, please." Interrupted Elena. "Do you expect to charm me into being your friend, like you did with the others?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Answered Vice. Helena scoffed.

"The Yellow Flag. Now. You're buying." Said Helena.

AT THE YELLOW FLAG

"So, so, we got Arthur so drunk, he... he couldn't even stand, and he had such a bad hangover the next morning." Helen laughed loudly. Vice chuckled along. Being the drinker he was, he was barely buzzed, while he probably should have cut Helena off a long time ago.

"You never did tell me why you joined with Vandervant." Said Vice. "What's your story?"

"Not a whole lot happened at first." Said Helena. "Life was a pretty boring until my brother died." Helena's eyes became clouded with grief.

(Play: The sun's gone dim by Johann Johannsson.)

"Go on." Said Vice softly.

"He was smuggling in yellow cake uranium, but something went wrong, and he... He..." Tears began to well in the intoxicated woman's eyes. "When everyone found out he was dead, our family took a social decline. While some of our family were imprisoned, a lot of us just gave up, killing themselves."

"But not you." Said Vice. The woman gave a rueful laugh.

"No, not me. No matter what happens, I know something good will come." Vice smiled at her optimistic outlook.

"And what kind of good do you want to come out of life?" The Priest asked. "Surely you have an idea."

"Yeah." She took in a breath. "Don't you dare laugh at me."

"I would never do something so impolite." Said Vice, raising his right hand. Helena laughed at this, rocking from side to side.

"I want to find somebody to love." Said Helena, blushing from either the comment, or the alcohol, Vice couldn't be sure.

"There's nothing wrong with that." Said Vice, feeling a buzz come on. Maybe a while longer before he gets drunk.

"And you would know?" Helena looked at him. "What do you know of love?"

"Well, I was married." Said Vice. "And I've been in love before." Vice locked eyes with the woman. "And, besides; _"If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing." _-1st Corinthians13:1-3"

"Wow... That's... Nobody's ever said anything like that to me before." Said Helena. Her tone had changed, and that worried Vice somewhat.

"Yes, well, let's finish our drinks, okay?" He asked. "Cheers." Vice held his glass up, and Helena clanged hers against it, loudly.

"Cheers!"

...

A/N: Jeez. This chapter was difficult. I couldn't figure out how to get these two to connect. Vice and Luke connected, because of their equal love of challenges. He connected with the Pantera because he helped her find her purpose. Rook and Vice connected because they fought side by side, and believe me when I say it is really hard to turn on someone that trusted you with their life. So, when I couldn't figure out how to get Helena to open up, one thought came to mind. Alcohol. Alcohol fixes everything.

One more chapter, and this Ark is over!

R&R!


	9. Edward Vandervant III

A/N: Hey, guys. New chapter. I'm so tired, got hardly any sleep, and I'm running thin on coffee. I sympathize with those who know my pain.

Theme Songs: Known OCs:

Vice: Passive: Angel With a Shotgun, the Cab. Aggressive: Lights Go Out, FOZZY.

Padre Santiago Cortez: Passive: Mexican Heaven, SPM. Aggressive: Adrenalina, David Rolas.

Deacon Joey: Passive: Where Butterflies Never Die, Broken Iris. Aggressive: Paint it Black, Rolling Stones.

Lucas Banderas: Passive: The Humbling River, Puscifer. Aggressive: Los Miserables, punk rock y subversion.

Danielle De La Fontaine: Passive: La seine and I, Vanessa Paradis. Aggressive: Diary of Jane, Breaking Benjamin.

Arthur Rook: Passive: Hole in the earth, Deftones. Aggressive: The Undead West, Wet OST

Helena Marie Johnson: Passive: The sun's gone dim, Johann Johannsson. Aggressive: Hideyoshi theme, Sengoku Basara Ni OST.

Edward Vandervant III: Passive: The Anonymous theme. Aggressive: The game, Disturbed.

I think it's time for pairings themes.

Known pairings:

Joey and Sawyer: Zydrate Anatomy, Repo! The Genetic Opera.

Vice and Helena: Painkiller, Three Days Grace.

Rock and Revy: Blood, In This Moment.

Enjoy!

...

Chapter Nine: Edward Vandervant III

"For if a man think himself to be something, when he is nothing, he decieveth himself." - Gelatians 6:3

When Vice opened his eyes, he was met with the sight of a ceiling he did not recognize. Sadly, this was not the first time this had happened. He groaned, attempting to sit up, only to be stopped by a large, feminine arm wrapping around him. That's when Vice realized he was stark naked, along with the woman next to him, whose identity nearly made his eyes pop out of his head.

"H-Helena!?" He nearly shouted. The woman's eyes slowly began to open, and when they focused on him, she gave a sleepy smile.

"Just a while longer, darling." She said tiredly.

'DARLING!? WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED LAST NIGHT!?' Vice shouted in his head. Then, images began swirling around, visions of the nights events. He remembered Helena and himself buying a few bottles of rum, him prying for information, and her explaining why she fights, and him explaining his outlook on love. That's when her tome changed and oh shit. He remembered the look she gave him. The night before, his mind had been to foggy to realize it, but now that the booze was, for the most part, out of his system, he realized something. Helena looked at him the same way Vices late wife had before she died.

Vice sat up slowly, attempting to move the woman's arm as slowly and calmly as he could without waking her. He grabbed his eye glasses, noting a small scratch on the right lense before putting them on. He looked around the room for some clothes, his eyes resting on the tattered remains of his uniform. When they couldn't get his clothes off in their drunken state the night before, Helena must have opted to just rip the clothing off of him. Vice frowned. It wasn't as if he could just walk around town in the nude. That's when he heard a knock at the door.

"Hey, old bastard." Came Rooks voice. "I know you're in there. I brought some clothes for you."

"Thanks, junior." Said Vice quietly. He heard Rook growl, then drop something in front of the door before stomping away. Vice peeked out, looking around outside the door, before snagging the clothes and closing the door again. He looked over to Helena, before putting the clothes on. They were blue jeans, black work boots, a basic white t-shirt, and a belt for his jeans. Vice frowned. It was no uniform, but it would work for now. Vice made his way out of the bedroom, finding himself in a rather fancy looking hallway. Making his way down the hall, Vice realized that if Rook was here, then the others were probably there too. Including Vandervant. Vices eyes narrowed. Now, he had the chance to stop any assassination attempt from the genius. Finally, Vice walked into the large living area. There were large portraits of famous strategists, golden candelabras, and other such fancy items Vice would never be able to afford.

"Ah! Mister Cecilio! Glad to see you're awake." Said Edward Vandervant III, sitting in the middle of the room in an armchair with a a chess board in front of him and another chair across from him. Luke was sitting in a corner, sharpening his sword, Danielle was reading a magazine, and Rook was glaring at Vice from the far wall, obviously still upset over the junior comment. They all gave a greeting to the Priest, Luke giving a small wave, Danielle smiling slightly at him, and Rook tipping his hat.

"Okay, someone mind telling me why Vandervant hasn't tried killing me yet?" Asked Vice. Vandervant laughed.

"It's simple, really. Blood is difficult to clean, and I'd hate to try explaining bullet holes to the landlord." Answered the genius.

"And you're okay with your subordinates sleeping with the person you sent them to kill?" Asked Vice. Edward gave a sigh.

"As annoying as I find it, I do not control Helena. She makes her own choices, and it is not my job to deter those choices." Answered Edward. "However, it is my self assigned mission to prove to this sorry assembly among us that you can not beat me."

"When and where?" Asked Vice, cracking his knuckles, before something crossed his mind. "Shit! Where's my cross!?" Edward pointed to the side. Sitting upright was Vices cross, with a small package sitting beside it.

"It is fully loaded, and polished. I thought you should be prepared to enter death nicely, which is why I also had a new Priests uniform ordered for you." Said Vandervant.

"You know, there's no way I'm going to let someone like you kill me, right?" Asked Vice, grabbing his cross and clothing.

"We'll see. Of course, there will be an audiance for this." Vandervant grinned. "A certain Japanese man and his foul mouthed friend." Vice tensed, but Vandervant gave a chuckle. "Relax. He was sent an invitation. A plus one, I belive. There will be others coming, of course. Now, go prepare. I will begin in one hour."

ONE HOUR LATER

When Vice looked at the inside of the arena he was to fight Vandervant in, he almost felt important. With fifty foot tall ceilings, and a wide open are with bullet proof glass protecting the crowd, Vice felt like some kind of new age gladiator, preparing to fight for freedom and fame. Standing before the Priest was Vandervant, armed with his stryker semi-automatic shotgun and an M640 heavy machine gun, both strapped to his back.

"Are you prepared to die, Father? Asked Edward. Vice smirked, prepping his cross.

"After you, Maestro." Answered Vice.

(Play: The Game by Disturbed.)

Vandervant, taking Vices advice, pulled the stryker from his back, running at the Priest quickly. Vice used his cross as a shild to block the shotgun bullets, and when the man got close enough, Vice brought his foot up and kicked him in the face, knocking the shotgun from his hand in the process. Vandervant shook it of, pulling his M640 from his back. Vice backed up, taking aim with Lluvia Muerte. They both began shooting, but it almost seemed as if they were both missing horribly. However, to the practiced eyes of a certain Triad boss, and Russian mafia boss, the bullets were colliding in mid air, forcing the deadly projectiles off track. After a while of this, both guns clicked empty. The two killers looked at their weapons. Of course, Vice could just shoot him with Fuego Santo, but where's the fun in that? The both dropped their guns, and converged on each other. Vandervants style was very methodical, and left little room for error, though seeing as his fighting style was based on the perfect combination of attack and defense, its movement was a bit jerky, leaving very small holes in it. Vice grinned.

'Jab to left cheek, knee to gut, fore arm smash against side of face, knee to gut, spin kick, win.'

'Ah, ah, ah, Mister Cecilio. You're not the only one who can play this game. Block jab, redirect knee, take control of fight, begin deadly barrage, knock opponent into unconsciousness.'

'No no. That's not how this goes. Spin around barrage, elbow target in back of head, lock arms around neck, subdue.'

'Ha, don't make me laugh. Break choke hold, elbow in gut, slam back of head into nose, spin around, slamming fist to face in the process. Win'

The fight going on much like that, both of them being a step ahead of the other. All of the other Kobura squadron members got the distinct feeling that Vice went easy on them. He didn't want to kill them, but he knows that Vandervant can handle it. Finally, the crowd gasped when when they saw the two men punch each other at the same time, a small shock wave being sent through out the arena. The two stood there, eyes locked. About thirty seconds later, Vice fell face first into the floor, the crowd erupting in cheers. Edward stood there, a massive, cocky grin on his face.

"He's not done yet." Said Danielle, at ground level with the rest of Kobura and the VIPs. "He's far too stubborn. And besides, it's not his purpose to lose here." The others could only nod, with Helena staring at his downed form, a bit of worry in her eyes.

(Play: The Anonymous Theme.)

"Ha! I knew I would beat you!" Laughed Vandervant. "Of course I would win! I'm smarter, stronger... I'm better then you in every way! No man can beat me! I'm the most unbeatable man... No. I'm not a man. I'M A GOD! HAHAHA!" Edward froze when he heard Vice laughing. Then, at the last second, Vandervant was thrown from his feet, landing on his back, and staring up into a gun pointed at his face, by none other than Father Vicente Cecilo, the Black Priest of Roanapur.

"You think you're a god?" Vice asked calmly, his hair shadowing his eyes as his glasses glinted in the light. "I've served God for most of my life. Believe me when I say you are no god. "For if a man think himself to be something, when he is nothing, he decieveth himself." - Gelatians 6:3." Vice sneered at the man. "How long have you lied to yourself? Or, even better, how many people have lied to you?"

"Lied?" Even with a gun pointed at his face, Vandervant would not release his pride. "You lie to yourself by thinking you have me beat! Do you really think that little gun can kill me?"

"Well, I wasn't planning on using it." Said Vice, dropping the gun. "I figure that now that you know someone can get the drop on you, it can happen again."

"Bah, that will never happen." Said Vandervant, though his confidence was slightly shaken by Vices grin. Edward attacked, attempting to overpower the Priest, only for Vice to block, dodge, or redirect all of the attacks. Vandervant started to become aggravated, his swings becoming sloppy in his anger. Vice grabbed the wrist of an especially sloppy punch. Using the momentum, Vice flew up, kicking the other man in the side of the face, successfully knocking the overconfident man out cold.

"Looks like I just got the drop on you. Again" Said Vice, walking away form the downed man. He stopped, turning around. Vice walked back towards Vandervants body, looking around in the mans pockets. He pulled out his wallet.

"FREE BEERS AT THE YELLOW FLAG! ON ME!" Shouted Vice, holding up the fat wallet. The crowd gave a loud Cheer, rushing down to lift Vice onto their shoulders, and drag the unconscious Vandervant to the Yellow Flag bar.

...

A/N: Well? What'd you all think? This chapter took so long, because I couldn't figure out how to beat Vandervant without killing him, and that was hard for me. Anyway, give me feed back, I like reading your guys' comments. Tell me what you all think about the fight, what you might want to see in the future, what you think about the Vice/Helena pairing, etc.

R&R.


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